Under the Umbrella Tree of Creativity
There are moments in life when the universe seems to quietly rearrange itself around you before you even realize what it’s doing.
I had my Lunenburg chalet for my soul-connecting excursion tentatively booked for May 11th-15th. Tentatively being the operative word. For reasons I couldn’t explain, my body and mind kept resurfacing the urge to move the trip earlier. It wasn’t logical. It wasn’t practical. It was just there — this persistent nudge scratching at the edges of my intuition.
I had just finished a session with my therapist, speaking aloud about this strange resurfacing feeling when my phone lit up with an email notification: I had been accepted into a Toronto Island Gibraltar Point artist residency beginning May 11th.
And just like that, the breadcrumb trail shifted direction again.
3 May 2026
My first day of wondering and wandering in Lunenburg was blessed with a romantic kind of rain but paired with the kind of wind that was actively testing my gratitude. I blew into Block Shop Books which is when I met Wake, the most magical, beautiful soul who happened to be working behind the counter that day.
Reflecting back on this particular morning, it’s hard to pinpoint the exact moment mine and Wake’s energies alchemized into the unmistakable feeling of knowing; of knowing this moment in time, this memory, was going to be stitched into the fabric of our lives in a galactic kind of way. I’m not sure how long I stayed there in conversation with Wake but I remember sitting cross-legged on the floor of that little bookshop, sharing snippets of each others’ authentic truths and quietly recognizing that our meeting felt divinely led.
Suddenly the signs and synchronicities guiding me there began making sense. Even if nothing else happened during the remainder of my stay, I would’ve known the mission had already been fulfilled.
We ended the visit snapping a photo together beneath a giant octopus which, of course, felt fitting considering the octopus has become one of the recurring symbols woven throughout my artwork and the cover of my book.
Wake has one of the most impressive creative curriculum vitaes I’ve caught a glimpse of (though they’re far too humble to ever admit this themselves) but what struck me most wasn’t their accomplishments. It was their soul, their love, their compassion, their curiosity, their advocacy for building spaces rooted in authentic connection and reimagining systems that were never built for people like us to thrive within.
It felt as though we both recognized our meeting was part of something larger unfolding — the blueprint of dreams we had unknowingly been building since childhood.
Wake invited me to visit them during their sitting at the Lunenburg Art Gallery on my final day in town before driving back to Halifax. I sat with them for hours into the afternoon, chatting with visitors, creating art, exchanging ideas, and indulging in the kind of creative connection that lit something inside me on fire.
The kind of fire that solidifies what your soul already knows.
This next chapter of my Hero’s Journey, without a doubt, will be unfolding here, in Lunenburg...
9 May 2026
A few days after returning from Lunenburg — and only days before my flight to Toronto — Wake sat in the yellow mustard chair in my studio space, yellow being a strange synchronicity for both of us.
"Wake," I said, reaching over to squeeze their hand, "you know we’re at the part of our Hero’s Journey where it’s time to finally make our dreams come true... right?"
Tears started to flood my eyes as we both inhaled and exhaled a beautiful breath of gratitude together.
It felt as though we were telepathically communicating the same feeling back and forth to one another — that deep inner knowing that all of these seemingly random dots were beginning to connect in real time.
We sat there together inside that strange current of gratitude, channeling visions, possibilities, manifestations, and futures that suddenly no longer felt impossible.
During this same visit, I found myself telling Wake about how Under the Umbrella Tree had become one of those strange recurring threads woven throughout my life, but increasingly so in recent months.
If you grew up in Canada in the late ’80s or ’90s, chances are the show still lives somewhere quietly in the attic of your memory — a soft little world stitched together with imagination, kindness, curiosity, and wonder.
Gloria the Gopher was always my favourite character.
Under the Umbrella Tree has somehow become my default answer whenever people ask me what kind of artist I am or what kind of art I create.
"...everything under the umbrella tree of creativity."
Sometimes I elaborate:
Painting.
Drawing.
Writing.
Photography.
Installation.
Performance.
Storytelling.
I’ve never been good with labels or boxes. I’ve never liked the idea of limiting myself creatively.
And then Wake mentioned their friendship and connection to Noreen Young — the Canadian film producer, puppeteer and puppet builder who voiced Gloria the Gopher who had passed away just a year prior. As if the thread hadn't already become strangely specific, I also learned in this same conversation that Gloria was also the name of Wake's grandmother. And their partner's grandmother too. By this point, the name had appeared enough times that I couldn't help but smile.
Gloria seemed to be lingering at the edges of the story like a familiar ghost, surfacing in places it had no business surfacing.
Another breadcrumb.
Another wink.
Another one of those impossibly specific details that would mean nothing to anyone else, but somehow felt significant to me.
It felt impossibly specific.
The kind of moment that brushes against you so gently you almost miss it… until suddenly you realize your entire life seems to be stitched together by these invisible little echoes.
And there was something poetic about it too — this beloved childhood world centered around curiosity, kindness, creativity, and connection somehow reappearing now, at this exact point in my life, when I’ve been slowly finding my way back to those very things.
Back to play.
Back to wonder.
Back to imagination without shame.
Back to the strange little magic that exists when we allow ourselves to remain open to the world.
I let the moment settle quietly into my bones. Not everything needs to be explained. Some things are simply meant to be felt.
—
During this visit, Wake started to share with me all of the magic unfolding in their own life at rapid speed since our fated meeting only days earlier.
They had just discovered that the person hosting the screenwriting class they’d recently signed up for — who also happened to be a somewhat new friend — also was their lifelong creative inspiration: the screenwriter behind their all-time favourite film, New Waterford Girl (1999).
As Wake told the story, I could feel the electricity behind it.
They spoke about seeing the film for the first time as a young film student and finally witnessing someone like them centered within a story instead of being reduced to comic relief, a side character, or a cautionary tale.
Their words nested inside me in a familiar way.
Because maybe so many of us spend our lives waiting for permission to become the main character in our own story.
What also struck me was learning that the actress cast in the lead role of New Waterford Girl had no formal acting background. No sprawling résumé validating the decision.
Just presence.
Energy.
Something intangible.
Something real.
Wake mentioned how they had always envisioned their own TV series adaptation (based on the novelette they’d written years prior) this way — casting, or starring, actors without the accolades, trusting presence, energy, and something harder to name.
They’d been waiting for a sign to finally set the project in motion...
And then they found themselves standing in the middle of a tornado, signs circling at rapid speed.
Suddenly, all of the strange signs orbiting my own life lately — acting and dance classes resurfacing in my mind, film synchronicities, storytelling, screenwriting and improv workshops — began humming a little louder beneath the surface.
And my trip to Toronto two days later would solidify those signs in a pretty powerful way.
But… that’s a story for another day.